


Express Your Beauty

by redeyedwrath



Series: Sterek Tumblr Ficlets [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (Stiles loves Derek a lot), Insecure Derek, Insecurity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 10:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7798300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redeyedwrath/pseuds/redeyedwrath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is kind of stupidly beautiful</p>
            </blockquote>





	Express Your Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> This was born from a Tumblr prompt and my desire to make Derek feel like he's good enough because #DerekHaleDeservesNiceThings

Derek is kind of stupidly beautiful.

Stiles has noticed it before, of course he has. It’s kind of impossible not to. Derek is the kind of conventionally beautiful that makes people stop and stare when they see him, all rough edges softened by the gentle lines of stubble and the laugh lines around his mouth.

But, he’s a different kind of beautiful too, one that only people close to him – people like _Stiles_ – get to see.

The first time he’d made Stiles coffee always stands out to him. Because Derek hadn’t had a coffee machine in his home, not even a French press, but he’d bought one when Stiles asked him to. And then he’d made Stiles a latte. It wasn’t perfect – because nothing Derek does is perfect but it’s still _good_ – yet Stiles enjoyed because _Derek made him a latte._

The blush pinking the tips of his ears had been worth it.

Stiles also marks that as the first time Derek had ever made his stomach flip. Seeing Derek standing in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, barefoot, hair sleep-tousled and eyes half-lidded, blushing as he gave Stiles a coffee like it was the most important thing in the world, had made him want to kiss Derek until they were both breathless.

The worst part is when Derek starts wearing glasses. Stiles has no idea Derek wore _contacts_ – he’d just assumed werewolf healing would prevent anyone from needing contacts – and when things settled down and he started to wear glasses more often, Stiles’ world flipped upside down.

Because the first time he’d seen Derek wear glasses, Derek was on his bed – _Stiles’_ bed – reading some book in German while wearing _glasses_ and mouthing the words along and Stiles had literally felt his heart skip a beat.

Derek had looked at him wide-eyed and kissed him until his lips were raw.

-

The light of the full moon blazes through the window, lighting every angle and contour of Derek’s face with an impossible shine. Derek looks like the half-animal he is like this, a heart-wrenching combination of the sharpness of a predator and the softness of a man who’s lived his life in guilt.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Stiles whispers, drawing a pattern over Derek’s cheeks with his fingertips, tracing the lines of Derek’s face that he can still see when he closes his eyes. Derek’s starting to get wrinkles and gray hairs – he’s getting older. Stiles thinks it makes him look even more gorgeous.

“I know,” Derek mumbles, eyebrows drawing down into a small frown, the line of his shoulders tensing. Stiles stops moving, the curve of Derek’s cheek pulsating with each breath.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, leaning back so only their legs are pressed against each other. Derek cracks open an eye – and there it is again, that tingle of _something_ he feels whenever Derek looks at him.

“Nothing,” Derek says, closing his eyes again. “It’s fine.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, because he trusts Derek.

-

The thing is, not only is Derek stupidly beautiful, he’s also _good_.

Stiles knows his first impression of Derek was _serial killer_ , but he’s confident enough to admit he was wrong. Derek is good in a way no one else Stiles has ever met is. Every time some thought of negativity about Derek creeps into his brain, he flashes back to Boyd. Cora. Erica. Scott. _Himself_.

Derek is so _good_ , that it physically hurts to be around him. He’s started wearing these soft sweaters that engulf his hands and he smiles at cashiers and Stiles once saw him help an old lady cross the street.

Maybe Stiles had only been sexually attracted to Derek at first – because who wouldn’t be – but then he learned of Kate and Paige and Jennifer and Stiles’ heart broke into a thousand tiny pieces that Derek was picking up with every soft smile and gentle brush of his hands.

Derek might’ve started off as a shit Alpha with a boatload of issues and so much repressed anger that he’d looked like a bulldog most of the time, but somewhere in between Jennifer and the Alpha Pack Derek had found himself and now he’s _nice_.

So nice that he tips more than he’s supposed to at restaurants, and that he always talks to the mailman when he comes by and that he holds the door open for people.

He’s shed the leather jacket and suddenly his true personality shines through, wrapped up in bright smiles and politeness and big, oversized sweaters.

It’s only when Stiles thinks that, that he realizes he’s in love with him.

-

“Did I say something wrong?” he asks one night, Derek’s feet in his lap as they’re reading. Derek looks at him from over the rim of his glasses, eyes bright and intense and fully focussed on Stiles.

“No?” Derek says, but it’s more of a question. Like he’s unsure. Like he doesn’t want to tell Stiles. Stiles resists the urge to narrow his eyes and instead leans a little into Derek’s space.

“Please, Derek,” he says, picking at one of his fingernails just to keep himself busy. “Tell me what I said wrong.”

It’s quiet, after that. Derek seems to be composing himself, hands clenching and unclenching rhythmically. Stiles sweeps thumb over the sole of Derek’s foot.

“I-“ Derek starts, then stops again, rubbing a hand over his face, the rasp of his palm against his stubble loud in the room. “You said you thought I was beautiful.”

Stiles frowns, pressing his thumb a bit firmer into the arch of Derek’s foot, watching as the tense lines of Derek’s muscles relax a bit. He waits until Derek’s sinked into the cushions to form an answer.

“You are,” he says, saying Derek tense up again. “Derek, I don’t – what’s wrong?”

Derek’s eyes remain closed, like he can’t bear to look at Stiles and that alone hurts Stiles more than anything. Is Derek really _that_ scared of him?

“Am I something,” he takes a deep breath, “something other than beautiful to you? Or is it just – just the way I look?”

Derek’s voice is small by the time he finishes, so quiet and timid and unlike Derek that Stiles can feel his heart throb in his chest. He knows it’s happened before, people using Derek for his body, of course he does, but he never thought – he never thought Derek would think _Stiles_ would do that.

“No,” Stiles breathes, the circling motion of his thumb stopping as he watches Derek’s face shift. “Derek – no, I – _I_ _love you._ ”

It’s a huge admission and Stiles can already feel the weight of it hanging in the room, but he doesn’t care. It’d already been filling their silences like an unspoken promise and if this – if this is what _truly_ bothers Derek, then Stiles is glad to say it.

“And I don’t just love you because of the way you look,” he continues when he sees Derek shut down, face a blank mask that’s such a parody of who he used to be. “It’s because you wear oversized sweaters and you make me coffee and you tip waiters and you come over at four in the morning when I’ve had a nightmare and you help old ladies cross the street and _so many bad things have happened to you but you’re still here_.”

He’s a bit breathless by the time he finishes, the burning feeling of Derek’s stare weighing down on him, but he bites through it because – because Derek looks so _surprised,_ eyes wide and mouth open like he hadn’t expected Stiles to like him for who he is and Stiles wants to wrap him up in a hug and never let him go.

“I love you too,” Derek eventually says. Stiles feels like he can’t breathe.

“God, _Derek_ ,” he says, pulling Derek into him until Derek’s in the circle of his arms, tight against Stiles’ body, Stiles’ fingers tangled in the sweater of the day. He presses a kiss to the top of Derek’s head. “I love you. With or without the ridiculous muscles.”

He feels the corners of Derek’s mouth turn up against the side of his neck and he can’t help the warm feeling swirling around in his gut.

He loves Derek now, and he’ll love him ‘till the day he dies.

**Author's Note:**

> Aka Stiles is all of us honestly
> 
> Anyways, I hope you liked it! Leave a comment if you did please? I'd love to hear from you ^^
> 
> [Also, I'm shamelessly self-promoing: I have a Tumblr. Come talk to me or something?](http://demisexualhale.tumblr.com)


End file.
